


Proselyte

by Bunsuu



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Branding, Coercion, Dubious Consent, Initiation, M/M, Non-Consensual Branding, Oral Sex, Sexual Coercion, Spark Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2742668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunsuu/pseuds/Bunsuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sear away the kingdom of old, dance upon the ashes and build an empire to last forever more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proselyte

The air in the Decepticon base was cold, on an approach toward freezing. Steam arose from Megatron's heated fuselage as he surveyed his prize. Optimus Prime, servos bound behind him and pedes linked by heavy chain kneeled beaten in a harsh electric spotlight. The capture had been almost too easy, knowing the Earth Autobots were thirsting for energon and moved at half their pace. The others did not matter, Megatron thought as his processor flashed to the rest of Prime's team. The small yellow one with a laser burn to his chassis. The black and gold one now without the use of a leg thanks to Lugnut. Blitzwing had made quick work of the spacebridge expert, using a combination of ice and flame to weaken his spinal strut to breaking. Their medic would be busy, at least as busy as he could be without an arm to steady his other servo. Megatron nodded to his victors, who too were sheathed in shadow, and gave them a rare yet deserved smile. One all too familiar face was missing from his ranks, and he both loathed and relished that absense.

"Optimus Prime..." He addressed the prize with a timbre that echoed malice through the chamber, "You... are mine."

The Prime's optics were offline until the large-framed warlord addressed him. Onlining them, Optimus looked up at his captor, meeting the menacing gaze of the Decepticon leader. His battlemask was still on, hiding the grimace on his faceplate; an expression of contempt, shame, and sadness. Following his capture he had faught to keep his processor calm, not to show any outward signs of the chaotic storm that brewed in his meta; no matter how badly he wanted to shout and kick and struggle and maybe even cry. Showing such emotion would also show his weaknesses. What truly ripped his spark apart. 

"I do not belong to you." Optimus' voice sounded strained and yet firm, trying his absolute hardest to swallow the nearly endless curses from escaping his vocalizer.

Megatron laughed. A cold, hollow sound virtually devoid of meaning. He could see Blitzwing's actuators prick up, shaking a little bit. No doubt the effect on the Prime was similar.

"Oh... But you will..." 

From behind him, Megatron drew an all too familiar object. The rocket axe so favored by his prize. The handle elongated easily as Megatron gripped it with a single servo, blade blazing blue. Megatron activated the rocket, directing the axe straight to Optimus Prime's chestplate. It would cause the perfect amount of damage, granting him carte blanche access to the younger mech's sparkchamber.

"You will..."

Optimus, on the other hand, merely flinched as his axe was drawn and activated. It seemed he was to be offlined by his own weapon. Ironic, perhaps, but he didn't let himself show any other signs of fear. Though, while he kept eye contact with Megatron most of the time, Optimus glanced over to the weapon every so often. The urge to tremble nearly overwhelmed his frame, but he ruthlessly purged that thought from his meta every time it showed itself.

"You don't own me, and you cannot own me, ever." Optimus expected his own execution to be next, so he kept his head held high if for no one's sake but for his team's image in his mind.

The axe came down hard on Prime's chestplate. Sparks briefly illuminated Megatron's various subordinates as the shock from the strike vibrated through his servos, up his arms, and into his very core. 

Megatron continued to bare down, putting his weight further and further onto the shaft of the axe until Optimus Prime's back strut shuddered. Megatron stood, and placed his left pede to the side of the rocket axe, still buried in the red painted metal. He reached his free servo to his prize's face, curling the tips of his digits to hook them onto the free edge of Optimus Prime's battlemask. 

"I think you'll find I can."

The resurrected warlord pulled at both the axe and battlemask, rending metal from metal. Bright strings of energon latticed the air as alloys shrieked against each other.

Megatron's first swing pierced the sanguine armor easily, though not spark-deep. As the gray frame pressed harder and harder into the chestplates his cervical struts shuddered involuntarily in pain. Clenching his dentae a small grunt escaped his vocalizer, though probably inaudible. 

The servo on his battlemask startled Optimus, though. While the mask itself was sensorless, it being a blast shield of sorts, where it connected to his helm was indeed ladden with neural net endings. 

Optimus supposed that Megatron wanted to see his faceplate contort with shock and agony as he ripped through his spark to offline him.

Megatron's processor was in a hot rage, but he kept it simmering just below his faceplate. Optimus's declarations of defiance were enough to roil his spirit. He threw aside the rocket axe and what remained of the battlemask, both now useless to him.

Optimus Prime's sparkchamber was just within his reach. Megatron went at Optimus again, this time with only his servos. Kneeling above his prize, Megatron tore at the Prime's chest until he came upon a brilliant gold sphere now slick with energon.

A small inconspicuous panel in his thoracic region transformed aside and offered up a slender T-shaped object. Once it was within his grasp, He raised his helm to look upon the exposed faceplate of his posession. He activated the object, and a brilliant purple energy blade burst from the handle.

"Gah-!"

Optimus forcefully muted his vocalizer halfway through his yelp as his mask was torn from its' hinges. His spark whirled anxiously in his chest as the servos returned and pulled violently at his chest plating. When the locking mechanism gave to spare the plates being ripped off altogether, they folded jerkily back into their parted position. 

The frigid air made Optimus tremble, the ghosting sensation tickling the inside of his sparkchamber. Watching as Megatron revealed the small object with a weary eye, he slightly shifted in his bonds. Looking up to stare back at his captor, he made sure to glare, even though his intake was open in a grimace of agony, condensation making his faceplate sheen in the harsh light above him.

"Do. It."

Megatron laughed again. Optimus thought he wanted to snuff out his spark forever! Ohh if he only knew what was coming...

The warlord's own spark energy whirled as he allowed his own chest plating to smoothly transform aside, revealing a sparkchamber pitted from millions of years of hatred. Megatron directed the flow of his spark energy into the freshly opened cavity below him with all his might. He wanted Optimus to feel the iron fist of the Autobot regime as one of its true victims. 

Megatron let out a roar loud enough to at least take some of the deadly edge off of the roiling rage he felt at every single Decepticon spark taken by Autobot hands. He let this rage fuel the sparkmerge, forcing it into every single fiber of Optimus Prime's being.

Taking time to find a moment of stillness within his own fury, Megatron worked deftly with a practiced servo, taking the energy knife and slicing off a thick portion of his prize's sparkchamber, careful not to pierce it to the core.

Optimus raised an optic ridge at the laughter which turned into an expression of shock when the flight-frame's chestplates parted. What is he doing?! Optimus opened his mouth to speak but only managed to get out a strangled 

"What-?!" Cut off by a truly spark-deep scream as his spark met with Megatron's full fury where the energy touched. Each wave of anger overtook the Prime's processor making him reel at the absolute power that raidiated from the spark of the Decepticon leader. 

The next sensation, of the knife cutting into his sparkchamber, further ignited his spark's pulsing in panic.

Megatron fed off of Optimus's panic. He kept thrusting his own vortex of spark energy into the soon to be former Autobot. He could feel the Prime's frame shuddering under the force of his entire being, getting weaker every microcycle. However, he knew he wanted to save some of that singular energy for later. 

One more surge couldn't hurt.

Megatron concentrated his spark energy into a bolt and aimed straight for Optimus's sparkchamber. Straight for the flat spot he had flayed seconds ago. That would do.

For now.

When he was finished, Megatron stood again, and turned the precious piece of metal over in his servo, the brilliant gold catching the light effortlessly.

Optimus gasped soundlessly, frame going lax as he was fully subjected to the warlord's spark. The last surge felt like a balm in some twisted way on the exposed circuitry of the rended spark chamber. When Megatron pulled away he had the sense to be bewildered of there having been a lack of pain from being impaled on the small blade. 

When he stood Optimus nearly fell forward, his frame trembling and quaking, mouth open and venting hard.

Megatron admired his stolen charge, looking upon him with brightened optics. 

"I've never forged a golden deceptibrand before... You'll be unique."

Huffing, it took a klik for Optimus to realize the implications of Megatron's remark.

"WHAT?!" Optimus shouted, his tanks turned over and his mind blanked in utter shock.

His vocalizer spit gibberish before clicking off due to having overtaxed it. However, Optimus was still gaping and vents still stuttering.

Megatron had never been one to value aesthetic, but when it came to his prize, he couldn't help but be a little delighted to obliterate that autobrand with something even more beautiful.

He went over to a worktable, but not before kicking Optimus's limp body to the floor. 

"You can rest... For now."

Megatron started work on the slice from Optimus's sparkchamber, forging it into a perfect duplicate of the symbol that graced his own chest.

On his side, he sputtered, truly rendered speechless. The kick was barely even registered by his processor. Heaving himself upward he sat on his trembling legs, the shackles gently clanking in the heavy silence as Optimus dimly regarded the Decepticon bent over the worktable. Sparks flickered in the air, giving Optimus a few opportunities to see the aurelian glimmer of the shard of spark chamber Megatron had cut from him.

The forging process was swift, as Megatron had personally performed the branding thousands of times. He was careful to keep a shard of the metal separate from the rest. That one he welded to his own sparkchamber. One glint of gold against silver and gunmetal. A souvenir of sorts. Hopefully an assurance. 

He grasped the new deceptibrand with a pair of induction calipers he had retrieved off a hook on the wall and approached his prize again.

"Consider this..." Megatron picked up Optimus so that the younger mech was standing. The warlord cradled him in his left arm as one would carry a freshly won trophy.

"...A gift."

Megatron activated the induction calipers and purple electrofields heated up the freshly forged deceptibrand until it was white-hot. He pressed it over that filthy shameful autobrand and prepared to luxuriate in Optimus Prime's screams.

When he was manhandled into Megatron's arm a pitiful mewl escaped from his parted derma. The tips of his pedes dangled limply against the floor. Optimus spotted the brand as it was about to be pressed into his shoulder and renewed his squirming, trying to fight out of the hold he was kept in.

"No slagging way!"

The protest was deliciously pitiful and completely ineffective. Megatron continued to press the hot metal into Optimus Prime's shoulder. Rebranding was something he craved to do more often, as seeing the autobrand melt away under a deceptibrand just felt so gloriously right.

He pulled the induction calipers away and deactivated them, throwing them back in the direction of the workbench. The cuffs on Optimus's servos were not necessary anymore. Megatron removed them and let Optimus fall to the floor.

"You pledge your unquestioning loyalty to Megatron and the Decepticon cause. You shall devote your spark to achieving our goal of a Decepticon controlled Cybertron, by any means necessary. And annihilate all who have driven us from our rightful homeworld. Refusal is not an option."

"I-I'm not a Decepticon!" Optimus huffed as he picked himself up from the floor, lunging at Megatron haphazardly.

"And I won't ever be!"

"You are now! And if you ever hope to get out of my sight again to... I don't know... warn your friends about my next plan you had better start behaving like one. Otherwise, you'll just be a pretty ornament for my throne with an inhibitor casing grafted to your t-cog."

Optimus made contact with the somber plating and raised his arm to punch Megatron's lower chest area with all the stregnth he had left in his already battle-worn frame.

Megatron laughed again at the feeble attempt at defense.

"Blitzwing!" Megatron shouted. "Pull up surveillance on subject Null-One." One of the many screens crackled to life. Static faded away to reveal an idyllic park. "Magnify!"

The camera zoomed in, and a familiar face appeared. Two red pigtails, a yellow and orange dress, and a large key hung around her neck.

"One wrong move from you, and she's dead."

Optimus froze, spark pulsing in icy dread. His plating shook while his optics wide and bright, illuminating his reflection in the frame before him.

"Leave her alone." Optimus' tone was seething in rage, but Sari...

He swore on his spark that no harm would come to her if he could help it. And it just so happens that he could stop her suffering by stopping himself.

"If you touch her..." 

His words were shaky but laced with a potent venom that was mirrored in his expression on his faceplating.

"You'll do what? Kill me?" Megatron had caught himself quite the special treat. "I could just reach into your chest and pull out your spark right now."

Megatron dragged Optimus by his freshly branded shoulder over to his throne.

"It is in both your best interest... And hers... To do exactly as I say." Megatron sat on the throne, a small flurry of sparks bursting where metal met metal. He wanted to get more out of his toy before he slammed him in a holding cell for the night.

"On your knees."

"I would rip you apart with my own servos!" He snapped back immediately at Megatron's scoff. And he did mean it too.

Optimus' face as he was dragged by a very sore and sensitive part of his frame was one of a sullen rage. At the elder mech's command he twitched and opened his mouth to tell Megatron off, but he quickly shut it for the sake of the human girl who had shoved her way into his spark; she was his family. Hesitation only lingered for a klick after until Optimus dropped to his knees, looking up at Megatron from under the visor of his helm.

"Good... good..."

Megatron leaned forward in his throne and cupped the back of Optimus's helm with a servo. He drew the mech slightly forward and gently placed a kiss on his forehelm. Rumbling, satisfied with Optimus's submission, he trailed more kisses down the side of his helm, and then drew a glossa over where the battlemask had torn away. The taste of freshly spilled energon was always so intoxicating to the Warlord and he had to refrain from swallowing. 

"I want you to taste yourself."

Megatron then placed his intake over Optimus's, and forced his glossa deep inside.

A muffled gasp and Optimus' servos flying forward to grasp the Decepticon's knees were the only responses to the sudden liplock he was suddenly engaged in. The taste of his own energon being shoved into his intake by Megatron's glossa made him shudder with a strange mixture of disgust and a curious heady excitement that Optimus felt he shouldn't dwell on. 

But Primus, his glossa was huge compared to his! Speaking of his own glossa, it twitched and instinctively laved the new occupant of his intake, smearing the pinkish fluid all over it.

Megatron pulled the younger mech closer to him. He could have his pick of any one of his subordinates, but none had even approached the beauty that had been his second in command, who was now unfortunately AWOL. None, that is, until he laid optics on Optimus Prime.

He continued to lavish his glossa around the inside of Optimus's intake, which tasted amazingly fresh compared to his other companions'. It was a taste he longed to sully.

Megatron took one of the digits from the servo that was cupping his prize's helm and stroked one of Prime's trembling audial fins. A warlord's touch wasn't always brutal after all...

The Prime bristled as he was brought closer to the Decepticon's chassis. His processor felt as though it was going to glitch at this point, he hadn't ever even had such a scenario as this cross his mind. EVER. The warlord didn't taste *bad* per say, it was simply... well he hadn't kissed anyone since before the accident with Elita-One so he couldn't really compare it to anything as the previous encounters with another pair of derma were nothing but weathered memories archived somewhere in his meta.

When he felt the digit brush over his audial, accidental or not, Optimus froze up and shook, his faceplate flushing and overall tempature shooting higher. For all this time he'd known they were sensitive, but with lack of kissing there is an implied lack of interfacing and thus, he hadn't ever been able to really explore his frame in that manner. (He was too embarassed to do it on his own as well!)

His own servos gripped the knee joints slightly harder, fighting to keep the tremors from increasing and giving away his... problem. That is, if he hasn't given it away already.

Megatron released Optimus from the kiss. He could sense the desire within the smaller mech's core as he failed to keep it under the surface. His own spike had been pressurizing all through the Deceptibrand ritual, and something needed to be done about that.

"Now," Megatron purred into that oh so sensitive audial, "put that pretty little intake of yours to good use and service me." He pulled away and gestured toward his panel seam.

Optimus shuddered once he pulled away from Megatron, trembling frame quietly rattling with his shaking. The words spoken to him didn't quite make sense to the former Autobot. 

The gesture, however, did. 

"E-excuse me?!" Oops. That didn't come out as close to a demand as he wanted. Rather, it sounded like a squeaking Earth animal of some sort.

"Do I need to make this more obvious?" Megatron let his panel transform aside. His spike arose half pressurized and slick with lubricant, the overhead spotlight bringing out the ribbed texture and shine of the metal detailing.

"I said, service me."

"I..." He gulped, glancing to his side at the monitor. Steeling himself, because Primus knows he's going to need it because he's going down on slagging MEGATRON of all mechs, Optimus exvents and leans forward enough and moves his right servo to the spike presented to him. It was... big.

Considering it is Megatron, though, he wasn't surprised. His proportions were much bigger all around, and, he dimly wondered if his spike was big for that framesize? It wasn't like he had a reference or anything. 

But he's only ever swallowed a spike once before, and it certainly wasn't as large as this one. Not like he had a choice though. Racking his processor for vague memories of the one day he tried to use his mouth for Sentinel, he leaned in and pressed his derma to the tip. You need to start somewhere, right?

Megatron could see right through Optimus's feigned security. A tremor here... A tic there... Optimus was painfully nervous under his newly forged Decepticon loyalty. 

He could tell the mech was unpracticed when it came to any sort of interfacing. So were a lot of his partners, at least before he taught them the ropes. Megatron loved when he could take someone under his care early in their debut. He had, after all, groomed Starscream into the perfect lover before the seeker decided to take things in his own clumsy servos. 

"What is it, my pet?"

Optimus glanced up at Megatron and immediately away, flustered even more by the seemingly transparent shield he was hiding behind.

"I... I've only ever done this once, and... err, it wasn't," Optimus didn't want to really talk about this but it was necessary, "quite as...very...uhm, large." 

The last word was spoken much softer than the rest of the sentence. Primus, he sounded like someone Bumblebee's age!

"Judging from the intact state of your helm, I figure you still have servos. I never said you couldn't use them."

Megatron gave a reassuring smile and nodded to his possession. 

"Like this..."

He grasped Optimus's servos in his own and placed them around the base of his spike, drawing them up and down its length slowly.

Optimus shivered again, but nodded. Leaning forward again he gave the head a timid lave of his glossa and a kiss, optics bright and focusing on his task. If for nobody's sake but for the wellbeing of Sari. Optimus craned his neck, licking at the side and underside of the spike with a little bit more confidence.

Working his way across the entirety of the legnth with kisses and suckles, he reached his servos and pulled back, taking in a deep breath. Optimus leant forward again, this time his mouth agape as he slowly fit the head into it. Once he felt steady enough he pressed onwards, taking in some of the shaft. Optimus was just glad that it was a thick enough spike to be constantly pressed against his glossa, saving him the concentration.

Megatron breathed in sharply, exventing hot air into Optimus's face. That derma being stretched to its limits reminded him of early times with his SIC, how he began tainting the flyer's spark with treachery. Enough had been placed on Prime's processor, though, that Megatron was sure he would perform not only acceptibly, but exceptionally. 

A satisfied rumble spread through Megatron's fuselage, and he felt his spike vibrate against his prize's dentae.

Waiting for the rumbling to pass, Optimus decided to gently bob his head, giving a little taste of what he had in mind. Proceeding, he winced when it got uncomfortable for his intake but pressed ahead. The reflex to gag was shoved back down each time it tried to show its' face. Optimus rolled his glossa over the legnth, pressing into each ridge when he passed by it to distract himself from the urge to gag. Heaving one last time he pushed forward and finally stopped 3/4ths of the way down, the rest of the spike still in his servos.

Glowering a bit due to his jaw aching, he mewled up at the Decepticon Leader.

Megatron smiled, dentae glinting in the harsh lighting. He was so proud of Optimus! Taking all of that into his intake was a feat even by his standards. 

"Yes, yes..." Megatron felt his spike pressurize even more within the former Autobot's intake. 

He reached to Optimus's faceplate, wiping the strings of lubricant dripping from his intake with a couple of digits. He brought the servo up to his own intake and licked them off one by one, savoring the taste of their mixed lubricants.

"Blitzwing! Lugnut!" He roared with genuine glee. "You two could care to learn a thing or two from this one!"

Optimus fought the urge to squirm at the more insistant poking at his intake tubing from the sudden increase in pressure. Shuttering his optics, he drew back a fourth of the way and bobbed downwards again, pressing the flat of his glossa to the heavy shaft. The prefluid that dribbled from his spike was a texture he somewhat remembered from getting a mouthful of the stuff from Sentinel.

Shoving the whiny Prime out of his thoughts, Optimus worked on a steady rhythm, his helm now moving in small circles. When he pushed back in he let the spike slide against his cheeks, something he unconsciously remembered Sentinel enjoying.

The sensation on the sides of his spike set Megatron's final pressurization into motion. His spike became completely hard in Optimus's intake, and the constriction around it jacked up his charge even more. It only now registered that the former Autobot's optics weren't active. 

"Optimus Prime!" Megatron bellowed. "You shall look at your leader when you service him!"

It was only the respectful thing to do, after all...

Startling, he whined around the spike and quickly onlined his optics, not wanting to risk getting Megatron angry here of all places. Optimus looked up at the ruby-red optics, keeping his face calm even though that last pressurization would have had him wincing if not for the command. Shivering apprehensively without realizing it, he quickened his pace to make up for his poor judgement.

"That's it..." 

Megatron reached a servo around to Optimus's back and trailed sharp digits up his spinal strut. This time he wasn't so delicate, leaving beads of energon welling up dotting in the wake. His charge was building, and it was building fast.

Optimus' left optic twitched and he grunted in pain around the spike, unknowingly rippling the walls of his intake around the legnth. Belatedly, he realized Megatron's charge was rising rapidly now, so ignoring the aching jaw and intake worked at an even more hurried pace, spending extra time on swallowing around the spike and wrapping his glossa around as much of it as he could. Optimus only barely remembered to keep eye contact with the Decepticon.

Megatron returned with a grunt of his own. The swallowing sensation around the head of his spike was glorious! Truly, he was victorious in every sense of the word with Optimus's capture. Without him his team was nothing. And now, Optimus Prime the Autobot was nothing. Megatron stroked the fresh deceptibrand on Optimus's shoulder. The feel of its golden lines under his thumb spun his charge further.

"You wear it well."

Optimus mewled back, if for the words or the still-somewhat-sensitive brand he didn't know and didn't care about that currently; he'll dwell on it later, maybe. Swallowing with more force, he forced himself down on the spike further this time. His hands fell away and he was dimly aware of the edge of the Decepticon leader's abdomen plating ghosting against the tips of his derma and his visor. He was also aware that he couldn't see Megatron's optics any longer; he could only see the beginning of his chestplates...

Megatron hissed approvingly at Optimus's performance. He was truly surprised at the capacity to which he was able to succeed at gorging himself on the full length of his spike. 

"Impressive! At this rate, your organic friend will live a long and happy life. Not that she'll thank you for abandoning her." 

"Especially..." Megatron's voice hitched as his charge neared breaking. "In the heat..." A snarl launched from his intake. "Of battle..."

Optimus had failed. He had known he had failed the moment this had begun. Grim determination had sunk in since then, he supposed.

It was fine if she hated him now, just so long as she's safe, so long as she can be safe and happy... 

It was okay. Really.

Optimus swallowed around the spike once more, optics flickering in an emotion he had no words for.

Megatron felt Optimus's throat clench around him once more. The smooth, powerful pressure was enough to make his charge break, a loud, ragged moan escaping his intake. He overloaded hard, the rush of transfluid producing a subtle kickback as it hit his prize's gullet.

His intakes spasmed further in response to the molten liquid being pumped into his throat. A little bit pushed out around the spike and dribbled down Optimus' chin. He knew better than to pull away now, he didn't feel like getting coated in Megatron's transfluid tonight if he could help it.

Megatron could feel his own transfluid caught in Optimus's throat. The volume of liquid threatened to displace his spike, and that simply could not happen.

"Now, as your leader, I order you to swallow."

As he sat back on his knees, neatly folded beneath him, he made sure to look up at Megatron's faceplate. Keeping his optics fixated on the scarlet ones above his helm, Optimus did as he was told. Once he was sure there wasn't any more transfluid in either his intake or intake tubing, he pulled off of the spike with a slight grimace pulling the edges of his derma downwards.

Megatron was more than satisfied with his new recruit's performance. 

"You have proven yourself to be exceptional, Optimus Prime. I can be certain that your further contributions to the Decepticon cause will be most welcome. However..." Megatron paused his oration for effect, letting the echoes of his voice peter out against the chamber walls.

"Since you have tasted me, it is only fair that I return the favor..."

Megatron lunged out of his throne and tore a servo down the front of Optimus's chassis, aggravating the gaping wound already there. He dragged sharp digits down to his panel and traced the seam along the middle of it.

"...and taste you."

Megatron in the flesh (as the humans would say) was much much different than he had been prepared for. Optimus honestly felt enthralled by his presence, he seemed so much larger than life itself, so sublime, that it felt as though he were staring at one of the old Primes, the Primes who were chosen (apparently) by Primus. 

But Megatron wasn't a Prime, and he wasn't particularly keen on showing any form of weakness right now.

When Megatron pounced him he struggled, though feebly. Fraggit, it still hurt to get tackled to the ground again! Optimus made sure to keep his lips set in a firm line, so that he wouldn't say anything particularly disrespectful to the warlord. He did, however, hiss whenever the reopened wound throbbed with pain, new energon flowing forth from the spark chamber.

Spark chamber? Optimus realized that his chestplates were still parted, and with no small effort, closed them while in the scuffle with the ashen-chromed mech, the hinges creaking in protest. The touch to his interface panel startled him and he whipped his head around to stare at Megatron, swallowing, before he allowed his panel to shift away.

This night was proving to be quite amusing. Megatron couldn't help but stifled yet another cruel laugh.

"You try to hide something I have already claimed? Open yourself back up, Decepticon, for I never ordered you to cover your spark!" He said these words as a digit traced the outer folds of Optimus's valve.

"Megatron..." 

Optimus did as he was told, though the level of uncertainty within his voice was palpable probably. He quivered at the touch to his valve, he hadn't self-serviced with it ever and it had been an extremely long time since the cover had even been opened aside of washing himself. Optimus found himself venting harshly in the cold air, fighting the urge to squirm away and hide.

The warlord could smell the apprehension leaching out of the smaller, younger mech's chassis.

"Has your valve not been serviced before?" Megatron flashed on that fateful night when he broke Starscream's seal. Now that had been one of the best, and then worst decisions he had ever made. He let a single digit enter his prize's valve, slowly, so as to feel the seal still in place. Sure enough, he was stopped by a thin rubbery membrane.

"Yes... Still intact."

Optimus sputtered at the question, gasping at the sudden intrusion which, embarassingly enough, was enough to make the walls twitch and warm in budding arousal. Behind his other panel his spike perked in interest. Truly, he should have taken more time to self service!

Megatron knew that the ensuing activity would be far more pleasurable if Optimus himself was more aroused than he already was. Megatron let the valve be for the moment and focused his attention elsewhere. He ran his servos up and down the inner sides of Optimus's thighs, focused entirely on bringing more sensuality to the situation. He wanted Optimus to feel the pleasure and satisfaction of a good frag, not simply the pain of an unprepared valve.

Optimus twitched at the touch of the servos; unconsciously spreading his legs a little wider apart. His faceplate was flushed with his optics dimming and frame relaxing little by little. Tentatively, Optimus placed his servos on Megatron's chestplate. It was a bit awkward for him, but he still gasped and pressed into Megatron's servos.

Megatron kept on tracing Optimus's various transformation seams, relishing those two small servos latching onto his chest. He felt the thighs beneath his own servos press into his grasp, and at that show of wanting he went for the spike. Megatron flashed Optimus the most reassuring smile he could create on his faceplate and nodded before dipping down to lavish the exposed part of the spike with his glossa. As he did so, Megatron reached up a servo to grip the edge of the gaping wound in Optimus's chest. The younger mech's spark energy teased his digits and sent his own charge spinning up again.

Truthfully, the smile wasn't quite assuring, but, as it was Optimus was in no position to feel threatened at the moment. 

"Gah-!" Optimus yelped breathily, he hadn't felt anything like this in so long that he was unprepared for the sharp sparks of a heady pleasure to travel through his neural net. Megatron handled him gently, a departure from the rough treatment he had become so used to in their numerous battles. Like in most things, Optimus knew next to nothing of interfacing while Megatron was essentially au fait; so skilled that it made his processor reel.

Optimus let out a small sound somewhere between a whimper and a grunt when digits held the edge of the wound, such a tender place that felt good to be touched in even with the sting from the sore edges.

Megatron felt Optimus's spike pressurize under his glossa. His own spike had begun repressurizing throughout his actions on his new recruit. He was only sorry that he could not return the pleasure of swallowing against it, for Optimus's spike was but a mouthful. A tasty mouthful.

He kept his mouth focused on the spike but turned his other servo on the outside of Optimus's valve, taking care to caress the external node every once in a while. Certain other partners of his had grown neglectful to it, but Megatron was still aware of the importance of attention focused on that one sensitive sphere.

Megatron's name escaped the former Autobot's derma in a sussurant exvent, The mouth around his spike was heavenly and the touch to his exterior node coaxed lubricant out of his valve. Optimus held on tighter to Megatron's chest plate, leaning closer to him as an afterthought.

The willingness of the new Decepticon was intoxicating. Megatron hadn't touched highgrade in millions of years, but a good frag was all he needed to replace it. He could see silvery lubricant glinting in the spotlight, dripping out of Prime's valve. He knew there would be more beyond the seal.

Megatron took his intake off Optimus's spike and pulled himself up to a kneeling position. His own spike was rock hard and rose into the air like a monolith. He then drew Optimus close in an embrace, locking intakes in yet another kiss. 

"I think it's high time we break that seal of yours..."

"Mmmm..." Optimus mewled in response, far beyond the point of paying attention to the part of his processor that was screaming danger because of the servos holding him having held him before, attempting to offline him then however. 

Optimus pressed himself onto the larger frame giving whatever he could reach chaste kisses and very timid licks. When Optimus felt the spike against his lower half he realized that it was going to be going... into his valve. The sheer size of it was worrysome, and he couldn't help but shiver in Megatron's grip. He certainly knew that there wasn't any chance that Megatron would let him go now though.

Megatron grasped Optimus's hip with one servo and supported his back with another. His servos were big enough to get a considerably good hold over his possession. He lifted the smaller mech like nothing at all and teased at the waiting valve with the tip. Slowly, he lowered Optimus onto his spike, feeling the small valve rail against his girth. 

"Service your spike while I'm dealing with your valve. It'll help keep the lubricant flowing." Megatron paused, drawing out the tension between them.

"But promise to stop when I say so."

He nodded quickly and reached for his spike. With a shaking hand Optimus stroked himself, focusing on moving his hand as a distraction from the stretching of his valve lining. Primus, Megatron was big...

"I will... Megatron." Optimus said, voice somewhat strangled from the pressure of his spike's entrance.

To be honest, Optimus was surprised it fit, and even more surprised it didn't hurt as much as he'd thought it would....

Megatron nodded. 

"Good... good..."

The warlord continued to push further and further into Optimus, but he knew there was more to his valve beyond the seal. He dared to push just in just a little harder, and the seal gave way. A rush of lubricant made Optimus's valve welcome even more of Megatron's spike. As he went deeper, Megatron heaved a long, lusty sigh.

Optimus' optics shot open and his frame jerked when the seal gave way. It stung, enough to make Optimus bite his derma, but not enough to really stymie his charge. However the feeling of Megatron pressing deeper was one he couldn't describe. As of yet it wasn't painful but it certainly lit up his tanks in some sort of excitement.

Megatron could feel Optimus's valve calipers open to accept his size. He really had to hand it to whichever medic engineered his prize's array, for it really was magnificent inside and out. 

Sooner rather than later, Megatron was able to fit his entire spike inside Optimus's valve. He needed better leverage to make sure he milked every last drop of pleasure from the former Autobot.

"You can stop that now." Megatron took Optimus's servo off that beautiful spike of his, and sucked the lubricant off the digits. He held Optimus close, spike still fully thrust into his valve, and stood. He turned around and set Optimus down on his own throne, and then proceeded to start thrusting in and out of those slick lips.

Optimus shuddered when he felt his pelvic plating touch Megatron's, the nodes inside firing off sometimes in reaction to the friction caused by his fluttering every now and then. 

He barely registered Megatron moving his hand off of his spike and standing. Though when he stood the angle of the spike changed, making Optimus moan at the new sensation. When he was sat down his legs crossed around Megatron's legs by instinct, his servos clenching on nothing.

And then Megatron moved. The first thrust drew a sharp cry from Optimus' vocalizer, his legs tightening around Megatron's pelvic plating. 

"M-Mega...tron...--!" 

He barely managed to get out Megatron's designation between gasps and keens, his optics deeper hued than usual. This felt much, much better than he ever thought it would...!

Megatron continued to thrust. His own name as it launched out of Optimus's intake could have fueled another million years of war. 

"Louder!"

"Mmf-Megatron!"

Optimus said it a bit louder, not even thinking anymore, focused solely upon the flight-frame in front of him.

Another thrust. And another. And another.

"Who am I?" Megatron roared. "Who am I to you?"

His hips were now meeting each thrust, valve making a mess of lubricant on the throne.

"Lord!" Optimus keened loudly, "Lord M-Megatron!"

"No! I am not simply Lord Megatron! I am YOUR Lord Megatron! Your Lord and Leader!"

Megatron started to thrust harder and faster, asserting himself over the small frame beneath him.

"And what are you to me?"

"Yours! Yoursyoursyours! Ah- your-n-your pet! Onl-y yours!"

Optimus wailed in abandon, no longer caring about the other Decepticons in the room. Dignity? What was that?

Megatron continued to thrust, hips bucking as pelvic plating clanged and produced showers of sparks.

"Optimus Prime! Where does your loyalty lie?"

"F-rag! Ah, the D-Decepticons, and you, my lord!" 

Optimus spoke in a daze, a spark-felt trance. Some part of his processor realized that what he was saying now could not be taken back, that he couldn't blame it on the situation later. This was his true betrayal of the Autobot cause.

Too bad he didn't care.

Megatron's charge was now almost to the breaking point. Hearing Optimus Prime of all mechs scream loyalty to him was a victory above victories. 

"Should I let you overload now?"

"Oh- please, my lord-- Lord Megatron!" 

Optimus' frame was shaking, due to the effort to deter his rising charge from toppling over without Megatron's consent strenuous in and of itself. His optics flickering rapidly, wails filled with static.

Megatron could sense no guile in Optimus's staticy cries. Now this... This was a mech he could trust. Maybe Optimus Prime could be more than just a pet or a prize. He held potential to usurp Starscream's former position. Maybe. Just maybe. Megatron looked forward to the day when he could unchain Optimus from his shackles and let him loose on the Autobots. Seeing their face of reason with a shining Deceptibrand would surely start the chain of command toppling. Then it would be chaos.

The warlord thrust still faster, wrapping his own servo around Optimus's spike and rapidly pumping up and down to bring the smaller mech to overload.

Optimus' back struts bowed, a garbled mixture of static and moans vaguely sounding like Megatron's designation following promptly afterwards. He didn't have permission yet but oh Primus if Megatron kept on like this he won't be able to control himself much longer-!!

"You have my permission to overload now. Do not disappoint me."

"Lord-Megatron!" 

Optimus nearly blacked out, valve clamping down on the spike inside of it, rippling as a rush of lubricants pushed out around Megatron's spike and splattered onto the throne's seat. His spike's overload streaked his own transfluid over the cherry red plating, some of it landing on the windows of his alt mode and onto his bared spark chamber. 

As he overloaded his legs pressed Megatron to him tight, optics wide and almost blindingly bright, his exposed spark crackled with energy, creating a symphony of glinting light that lit up some of the room around him.

At the moment of Optimus's overload, Megatron opened his chestplates again to drink at his spark energy. 

Megatron himself overloaded only seconds after Optimus, the repeated clenching of his valve calipers a phenomenon all its own. 

Aftershocks of course followed, wracking both their bodies with extended waves of pleasure, energies pulsing from spark to spark.

The second merge prolonged the overload, along with the sensation of Megatron's transfluid rushing over his hyper-sensitive nodes. Right now, he didn't give a damn about anything else. Not the Autobots, not his betrayal, not his team. His universe currently was comprised only of the warlord before him and a mind-numbing pleasure from overload. Smoke rose from some of the seams on his chest and shoulders.

Megatron's frame shuddered, backstrut arching repeatedly with each delicious aftershock. Ever so slowly, he pulled his spike out of Optimus's valve. Transfluid and lubricant splashed out, dripping down his throne and onto the floor. Sticky strings still connected the two mechs. Megatron lifted Optimus to his chest and held him close, and sat back in his throne. The sweet metallic smell of transfluid surrounded them, and Megatron ran a servo lightly up Optimus's abdomen, gathering the mech's transfluid on his digits. He brought the glowing liquid up to his intake and licked it off. He smiled and leaned into Optimus for another kiss. 

"You... taste... fantastic..." He whispered through their passion.

Optimus mewled in response, licking at Megatron's derma. His optics were dim and flickering now. Optimus faught to stay awake and to not curl up on the large frame and recharge. Nuzzling Megatron's neck cabling, he rested his servos daintily on either side of the broad gray chestplates. His engine purred contentedly, a dazed and sated smile on his face.

Megatron kept the sparkmerge going, but only slightly. Optimus definitely deserved to taste of his leader for as long as he wanted tonight.

"Thank you... for proving your loyalty tonight..."

"Yeah..." Optimus murmured into Megatron's neck cabling, sending small pulses of energy back to Megatron, relaxing on the Decepticon leader's lap.

Megatron placed a kiss on Optimus's forehelm, then another on an audial fin. 

"It's probably best that you allow yourself to fall into recharge. That way we can get started on repairing you."

The warlord raised Optimus's chin slightly with a servo cupped under his chin. 

"I do need you in fighting shape as soon as possible, after all."

"Mmmmmmmm." 

The last comment didn't register very well, Optimus falling into recharge already. His vents cycled in even circles, plating still smoking in some areas.

Megatron kept Optimus asleep on his lap for as long as he dared to lest he lose more energon. Quietly, he brought the mech to a medical bed, activating the array of robotic arms that hung above. They stood at attention, waiting to do their work. 

The Decepticon leader punched a series of buttons on a console, a familiar single eye floating into existence through static.

"Shockwave, I need you to patch into my medical computer and repair my newest recruit. I will tolerate nothing less than your absolute best in this situation." A hollow voice confirmed the command, and Megatron took his place at Optimus's side. He vowed not to leave until repairs had finished. 

"Welcome to the Decepticons, Optimus Prime." Megatron gently ran a digit over the golden Deceptibrand as the procedure began.

**Author's Note:**

> This was an RP. I wrote Optimus, Tero wrote Megatron. It was a lot of fun!
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
